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his nose.
    â€œI didn’t!” Finch protested. “I fell.”
    â€œYou’d better go to the nurse’s office and get some ice for that nosebleed,” Mr. Burns told Thorn.
    Bud bounced on his toes. “Should I go with him?”
    Mr. Burns hesitated a moment. “No.”
    Finch touched his teacher’s arm to get his attention. “Mr. Burns, it really wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to—”
    But Mr. Burns cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ll talk to you later during recess. For now, just go back to your seat.”
    â€œYou didn’t even see what happened,” Finch protested.
    â€œI said later, Fin.” Mr. Burns turned away. “Everyone—return to your desks and take out your math books.”
    Â 
    After lunch, Finch went back to the classroom instead of out to the school yard with the rest of the guys. Mr. Burns was reading a magazine called Snowboarder .
    â€œDon’t sit at your desk, Finch. Come over to the rug.” Mr. Burns closed his magazine. “I thought we could do a little yoga together. Before we begin, I want you to know something. Yoga is not a punishment. That’s not why you’re here. Doing yoga stretches not only the body, but the mind, too. It can help you think clearly and have more positive thoughts. And it’s a great way to chill out.”
    Mr. Burns lowered himself down easily and sat Indian-style. Finch plopped down and slouched over. He breathed a noisy sigh. Maybe yoga wasn’t a punishment, but what about losing your recess time?
    â€œAnyone can fight,” Mr. Burns said as quietly as if he were telling Finch a secret. “But bullying isn’t the answer. The thinking person figures out a better way to solve a problem.”
    Finch clenched his jaw. Mr. Burns was going to make a terrible teacher. He couldn’t even tell a bully from a victim. He still hadn’t heard Finch’s side of the story. It was as if he didn’t care who was right.
    But in a few moments, Finch was in the downward-facing dog pose. He was bent over at the middle with his hands and feet on the floor. His arms and legs were stretched out tight. His rear end was pointed up in the air. The pose was harder to do than it looked, but Finch tried until he got it.
    â€œNot bad,” Mr. Burns said. “Now let’s try the rattlesnake pose—and if we have time, we’ll do the scorpion.”
    Finch thought Scorpionman would be a good name for a superhero—or an evil villain. There were times when it would be extremely helpful to have a poisonous stinger. Like right now. Zap! He’d use it on Thorn. It was his fault Mr. Burns didn’t like Fin after just a day and a half of school.
    The thought created a stinging feeling behind Fin’s eyes. He kept his head down. He wondered if he would ever be able to change his teacher’s mind.

9
    THE BEGINNING
    Finch was down on the floor of his room, leaning on his forearms and his right knee. His left leg was in the air, knee bent, toes pointed up at the ceiling. It was a version of the scorpion pose, although he hadn’t totally gotten it yet. He still needed to raise his right knee off the floor too, balancing on his foot instead. He was determined to be ready in case Mr. Burns asked him to do yoga again. He wanted his teacher to see he’d been practicing.
    One, two, three, up! He pushed onto the ball of his foot, toppled over, and hit his head on the garbage can. “Ow! Ow!” he moaned as he lay there rubbing his temple.

    Cubby scampered in to check out the commotion. He climbed over Fin’s face and headed for the garbage can, which had rolled onto its side.
    Pfu! Pfu! Get off of me, you odiferous polecat!
    Finch let out a giggle. Now the mind voice was being funny. He wondered if he’d gotten a concussion or if he was going a little crazy.
    He reached into the can and pulled Cubby out. Then he removed the